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Orik Vancaskerkin (Thistletop Aftermath)
Orik shares part of his story before departing north. Orik That night you make camp before beginning the journey back to Sandpoint - after all you've faced, a fire doesn't seem so great a risk and the hot meal makes it a more than worthwhile one. Not far away, all of you can see Nualia lying there, comatose, still clad in the horrific armor she had had made for herself, abdomen still scarred with that profane symbol... and yet, even still her beauty is undeniable, her features at rest seem almost peaceful for once and the firelight casts her silver hair into bunished gold. It is a stark reminder of the many forms and faces evil might take, and a lingering question hangs over you all - whom will you face when she awakens, the monster or the child? Orik breaks the silence, having kept a wary distance from the maimed and unconscious woman, going so far as to avoid even looking at her whenever he can. The big man seems to feel more than a bit of confusion over what has taken place, and the earnest desire to do nothing more than get clear of it is written all over his face. "Come morning, I'm thinking I head north. I'm glad nothing happened to Sandpoint - seemed like a right proper little town the time I passed through - but I don't expecty they'd be very glad to see me... and I'm not so certain I could look any of 'em in the eye anyways." He falls silent a moment. "Coming out of Riddleport, I didn't have a lot of options. I'd run up against ole Zincher up there, kinda roughed up a whore and her partner when I found out they was trying to steal from me. More than roughed up actually, fellow ended up with a broken neck. Didn't know he was Zincher's brother. Anyways, I was looking to get from town quick and when I ran into Nualia at that tavern there, she was offering easy money and a way out. Been a while since I worked for more than silver, ya know? And man, she was something..." the big man still avoided looking at her as she spoke, and the word 'was' hung heavy in the air. Finally he looked up, and then back over his shoulder as if he could see what lie north and nodded to himself. "I figure I'll take the coin you pormised and make myself scarce. I promise I won't make any more trouble, least-wise not around here... not so long as it don't come looking for me." The fellow scratches his grizzled chin and falls silent, gazing into the fire. Shalelu "I won't be going back with you either." Shalelu's calm, cool voice cuts through the lingering silence. "As much as I would like to, Bruthazmus escaped and I can't let the trail go cold on him. I have a suspicion that I know where he might be headed, back east towards the Devil's Platter. He'll want to avoid his own kin in those hills, so there are only a few paths left open to him." She turns and places a hand on Ezra's chest, fingers drumming lightly as if considering something. "I'd ask you to come with me. You and that man you keep are handy in a fight, without question... but your woodcraft is fie she'saithe (crude elven term for 'lacking') and The Platter is no place to be if you can't move quick and make yourself scarce when necessary. She holds Ezra's gaze for a moment before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, an uncharacteristic moment of tenderness for the elf. "Give that to my ''mi sien-shai ''when you see her (Minkian for 'little sister'), and let her know that I'm alright. I'll be back in town before another moon if things go well. Before the snows come for certain." Daverin Daverin clears his throat, seemingly hesitant to interrupt your discussions. "You all know what you plan on doin' wit her?" he jerks his head towards Nualia's bound form, "If you're bringin' her back alive, I'm guessin' you mean to put her to trial... and she can't stand trial in the state she's in. People are gonna be after blood, some of 'em lost kin to that goblin raid, and I'm not expectin' they're gonna have a whole lot of patience on waitin' fer her to come around." He shrugs, voice quieting. "I'm just sayin'. Somethin' needs to be considered is all, especially if'in you're just going to ride right inta town with her draped over your saddle like some boar fresh-kilt..." Category:Exposition